


Harana

by merethengilith



Series: Reader x The Kenobae [1]
Category: Star Wars - All Media Types, Star Wars Legends: Jedi Apprentice Series - Jude Watson & Dave Wolverton, Star Wars Prequel Trilogy, Star Wars: The Clone Wars (2008) - All Media Types
Genre: Banter, Casablanca but make it star wars, F/M, Fluff, Fluff and Humor, Gratuitous amounts of guitar playing, Multi, Obi-Wan Kenobi is a karaoke legend no one @ me, Padawan Obi-Wan Kenobi, Romantic Fluff, bb Obi-wan is a sweet soft lad, being awkward dorks, if disney doesnt stop making obi wan sad im gonna take the mouse out myself, nothing says romance like spontaneous harmonisation and guitar playing
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-05-18
Updated: 2020-05-18
Packaged: 2021-03-02 17:14:16
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,655
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24250399
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/merethengilith/pseuds/merethengilith
Summary: Harana- A serenade tradition in rural areas of the Philippines in which young men may formally meet single lady visitors. A structured call-and-response, the suitor often performed with guitar and accompaniment by friends.Perhaps you’d foolishly consider yourself a hopeless romantic. It just seemed one of those days: sunny and the breeze just a touch warm, the scent of Ithorian roses and Sachi blossoms drifting upon it as you spent a day idly reading upon the balcony of your apartment. Somehow it was as if nothing could go wrong. Not spilling your tea all over the counter, not making your bath far, far too warm, hells not even the dozens of unopened messages on your comm could ruin the quiet serenity you were feeling.You were unaware that the Jedi were even allowed to sing. You’d always been taught that they were a hermit-y sort that didn’t do the whole singing-and-dancing-and-women-and-drink-and-wine-and-merriment sort of thing. Probably spent their free time herding shaak and the like. But clearly you were very, very wrong.
Relationships: Obi-Wan Kenobi/Reader, Qui-Gon Jinn & Obi-Wan Kenobi
Series: Reader x The Kenobae [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1750459
Comments: 5
Kudos: 36





	Harana

**Author's Note:**

> A/N: Man I really sat on this WIP for 3 whole ass years. OBI-WAN AND INFINITE SADNESS? I DON’T KNOW HER. I ONLY KNOW TEA AND MIST DIFFUSERS. There are some sneaky references to Casablanca in here and a section of Anne of Avonlea.
> 
> Harana in the rural Filipino tradition is the act of courtship by serenading (with guitar) and often has the serenadee to respond back in kind (also with guitar). Often your bros would help you woo a girl by being your back up players and singers.
> 
> This work is also being cross-posted on my Tumblr (if-weshadows-haveoffended.tumblr) if anyone would like to check out some of my other works :)

_Harana_

Perhaps you’d foolishly consider yourself a hopeless romantic.

It just seemed one of those days: sunny and the breeze just a touch warm, the scent of Ithorian roses and Sachi blossoms drifting upon it as you spent a day idly reading upon the balcony of your apartment. Somehow it was as if nothing could go wrong. Not spilling your tea all over the counter, not making your bath far, _far_ too warm, hells not even the dozens of unopened messages on your comm could ruin the quiet serenity you were feeling.

And you may as well enjoy it after all, this reprieve from the tedium of study would only last for a few more days. You’d spent enough time watching holo-movies and idly playing music upon your old guitar as it was. It was time to finally work through that pile of reading you had always intended to get to.

The sun was slowly descending beyond the rolling hills at the horizon and you were well into your bookchip now. A story you felt viscerally, had read and re-read so many times and yet you yearned and pined and loved alongside the protagonists of the story. You would always smile, feeling your soul alight as your eyes traced the words upon the screen. Perhaps that explosive, violent love was never for you. The ones they showed in holodramas where the lovers would dramatically meet at the docking bay for one last passionate kiss. A confession and a farewell all at once. No, you ached for something quieter. Something as constant and warm as sunlight.

_‘Perhaps, after all,’_ you read, _‘romance did not come into one’s life with pomp and blare, like a Jedi knight flying down; perhaps it crept to one’s side like an old friend through quiet ways; perhaps it revealed itself in seeming prose, until some shaft of illumination flung athwart its pages betrayed the rhythm and the music; perhaps… perhaps… love unfolded naturally out of a beautiful friendship- ’_

You were suddenly pulled out of your reverie at the sound of footsteps and the murmur of a voice.

“Who’s there?” Your hands gripped at a small blaster in the folds of your dress in reaction to the sudden sound, eyes frantically scanning the deceptively serene balcony. Datapad in hand, you slowly made your way to the wide stone ledge. Carefully brushing off fallen blush-coloured petals you precariously leaned over, checking for any assailants below the ledge. Granted it was a stupid idea, but it was worth a shot anyway.

What you hadn’t been expecting was a young man sitting on a balcony ledge below, quietly singing to himself as he stared out into the far distance.

_Kriff abort mission, no, nooooooo….nah... Nah can’t do this._

You really couldn’t, he looked far too peaceful with one leg tucked under his arm, the other lazily over-hanging his ledge as half-lidded crystal eyes stared out to the peaceful idyll of distant lakes and hills. And yet, you were still there, half-falling off your ledge and staring at this boy as if you’d been ordered to memorise his appearance in order to assassinate him in the marketplace tomorrow. But something tugged at the back of your mind as you took in his relaxed robes in a sort of cream colour, the brown cloak discarded carelessly upon the balcony floor and what appeared to be a braid peeking out from behind his ear-

_Oh no, oh kriff… oh kriff, kriff._

You were unaware that the Jedi were even _allowed_ to sing. You’d always been taught that they were a hermit-y sort that didn’t do the whole singing-and-dancing-and-women-and-drink-and-wine-and-merriment sort of thing. Probably spent their free time herding shaak and the like.

But clearly you were very, _very_ wrong.

He was a wonderful singer. His voice carrying the romantic yet mournful tune that you must have heard somewhere before. Was it a play? No, it must have been one of those sweeping holo-movies that always seemed to make every being in the room cry as the battered cantina owner lamented the return of his lost love. What was it? He’d refused to have that song played ever again? And yet he did, drinking whiskey, a single tear falling down his noble features. They’d always have Correlia, he’d say, assuring himself that he truly was fine and not crumbling apart within.

And that young man was still singing the tune, and you… you were simply transfixed at his beauty and his serenity, wondering what other power in the galaxy had blessed him so with coppery hair that glistened _just so_ under the blaze of the setting sun.

“Hello there!” He turned suddenly and cheerfully waved to you.

There were many things you would tell people in the future about that time you first encountered the famous General Kenobi; “The Negotiator”. His kindness, his laughter, his smile…What you wouldn’t tell them, was the absolute mess you’d made of yourself while you fell off your balcony ledge and onto your tiled floor.

Like a complete and _absolute_ ass.

Oh _and_ your pad had tumbled off the marbled edge and cluttered upon the tiles of the Jedi’s balcony.

But it was alright with the coppery-haired piece of shit, apparently. He was profusely apologising and bounding up with his magical force powers to stand upon the narrow ledge on the other side of the stone balustrade.

“Are you alright?” He tilted his head in confusion, padawan braid swinging against his chest. You felt your mouth open and close, but you doubted anything escaped. “It appears your pad has smashed itself into smithereens.”

“I-I,”

“You _can_ speak Basic, can’t you? If not, I can translate into-” He offered very quickly,

“No, of course I can speak Basic, I was just…” Gingerly, you prised yourself off the floor, dusting down rumpled skirts and staring at the odd Jedi. “You’re a wonderful singer,” you blurted.

“Well thank you,” He replied, a little flustered, a hand moving to fiddle with his cute little nerf tail.

Cute. _Cute?_ Kriff, you’d only been talking to the boy for the last thirty seconds. Surely this was a new record.

“I didn’t know Jedi sang,” You rambled on and you simply knew that heat would be pooling up in your face for the boy to see-

Oh no, it was fine, he was turning a rather charming shade of pink too. It only seemed to get worse, didn’t it? Oh of course, of _course_ he was cursed with dimples. You really should have just cut your losses and fled.

He laughed, swinging a leg over your balustrade and sitting upon it. “Oh we sing sometimes, my master says it drives him up the walls. But I am sorry, I’ve been terribly impolite. I’m Obi-Wan Kenobi, Padawan learner.” He held out a hand and you took it, shaking it as well as you could given your dazed circumstances. You were pretty sure, however, that you at least managed to give him your name.

“Well, Y/N, however can I make this up to you?” He gestured to the mangled, metallic remains below. “It is more or less my fault and-”

He still had not let go of your hand, and despite all common sense, you found no reason to let go. How could you? Obi-Wan (you had the sneaking suspicion it would roll off your tongue) continued rambling and you merely stepped away, your hand fighting to remain in his until you were too far, finger tips brushing against a calloused palm.

“Wait here,” You said, placating the concerned look that had passed before his face. Your feet traced the path through your room, eyes frantically scanning for the sight of warm Kashyyk wood before hefting it into your hands and quickly returning to the waiting Jedi. You noticed with some amusement that he’d balled his hands into the sleeves of his robes. “That pad was old anyway,”

He raised a sceptical brow, “Your face certainly said otherwise,”

“It doesn’t really matter. I’d read that story enough times to recite it in my sleep.” Heart pounding in your chest you mustered the courage to sit beside him, transferring the guitar to his awaiting arms. “Do you play?”

“A little. It was an elective.” He responded, “I’m sure it’s nowhere near as good as you,”

“Flatterer.” You briefly met his gaze, transfixed by their colour. Like a lake mirroring a cloudless sky. And you knew that you were lost. “Well, I’ve been starved for someone else to play with.”

“Have you now?” His teasing was going to be the death of you.

“Yes, now go and be all chivalrous and play something wonderful.”

“Any particular requests?” He asked, focused upon adjusting his hands upon the frets, fingers outlining the ghosts of chords. “Well?” He found your eyes once again, the answer slipping from your tongue faster than you could have ever expected. And oblige that request he did.

It didn’t matter in that moment that a bemused Jedi Knight sat a floor below, basking in the comfort of the living force and the gentle sound of singing above him. It didn’t matter that he should _really_ be bundling that boy off into their ship and off to debrief a council that would be mildly irritated at his choice to delay their return by a day or two.

All you knew- all you were consumed by- was the feeling of your fingers sliding their way along metal strings to familiar positions, passing a well-loved instrument back and forth and exchanging laughs as you missed notes. And if your hands lingered for too long upon his as you performed yet another exchange, you didn’t care.

No, all that mattered in the universe right now was the sound of your voices carrying the half-remembered tune of a song you both loved. And perhaps, just perhaps, this was that shaft of illumination you had hoped for.

**Author's Note:**

> I hope you enjoyed this, I had this idea stuck in my mind for a while and I really couldn't figure out a way to articulate it until now. Feel free to let me know what you thought or if you have any suggestions/requests. I do have a few more Obi-Wan x Reader fics in the works and I'll add them to this series as I go along. Thanks my dudes stay safe out there in the apocalypse :)


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